


A Change of Style

by Rho_Jaihtlyn



Series: Picture Perfect [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Also my first completed fanfiction, And Bill is really sweet, Bill is a flirt, Dipper and Bill are children in adult bodies, Dipper is a nerd, F/F, Fluff, Hair Salon AU, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, i'm proud of myself, this is way longer than it was supposed to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rho_Jaihtlyn/pseuds/Rho_Jaihtlyn
Summary: Mabel convinces Dipper to take her into town for a quick trip to the salon. He returns with a new outlook on life, and an annoying new thought process that makes him care about his appearance.





	

The air was so thick with hairspray and chemicals when he opened the door that Dipper thought he might suffocate if he took another breath. Mabel pushed past him, his back digging into the cold metal of the handle on the glass door, and sucked in a needy amount of contaminated air before releasing it with a satisfied “ahhh”. “Smell that, Dip-Dop?” The elder twin asked, eyes roaming the room in front of her with so much affection she could have just stepped into her old childhood home. “THAT is the scent of style.”

Dipper coughed. “Mabel, how do you breath in here?” He ushered her inside and let the door shut behind him, covering his mouth with his elbow to stifle another cough. He followed her to the counter and stood next to her as she waited for someone to put her name down for a haircut. She had been complaining all morning that her hair needed cut so it would stay healthy and fashionable and 'no Dipper you can’t cut it again' so Dipper agreed to drive her into town to get her hair cut at a real hair salon. She could have driven herself, and definitely had more than enough money to pay for it with the knick knacks and merchandise she had been selling at the Mystery Shack, but she had said she didn’t want to go alone because what if she didn’t know anyone and she got lonely and it was awkward sitting in silence with her hair dresser? He knew she would have no trouble conversing with any person currently sitting in the room whether she knew them or not but Mabel was persuasive and had him out the door before he knew what was happening.

Mabel laughed, lightly tapping her knuckles against his forehead through his hat. “Fashion is my life, Bro-bro, and this place is DRIPPING with style! Use that giant head of yours, silly!” She pulled her hand away, knocking the bill of his hat down over his eyes and giggling as he let out a surprised ‘hey!’ and struggled to pull it back up off his head. He shot daggers at the back of her head as he followed in the direction she had started walking, and sat down in one of the green-cushioned chairs setting against the front window.

He pulled at the scarf around his neck and shrugged off his coat. “So, how long does this usually take?” His mom had always cut their hair when they were children, and when they moved out to Gravity Falls after graduation (and Mabel’s three short semesters of “Fashion School”) Dipper had taken up the task. Mabel had never been one for dying her hair crazy colors, and had always preferred to keep her hair long, so Dipper never had any trouble keeping up with her hair’s “needs”.

The girl shrugged, bouncing up and down in her seat. Dipper had made the mistake of setting his coffee in the cup holder between the driver and passenger seats, and Mabel had managed to sneak a few sips during the drive. It may have been almost two o’clock, but Dipper had started a new book before bed last night and had stayed up until dawn reading. On accident, of course, but he still only got two hours of sleep before Mabel dumped a stack of perfectly good hot cakes on his head. What a waste. “When they can get me in it should only take ten-ish minutes. I’m just getting it cut so it really shouldn’t take too long.” Dipper nodded in response, staring down at the small illuminated screen of his phone he had fished out of his pocket while Mabel was talking. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting — no new messages, and the same-old, same-old on social media — but it had become a force of habit for him to turn to his phone for a distraction in social situations.

Mabel grabbed the bottom her seat, her knees bouncing and eyes roaming as she waited. A goofy smile was glued to her lips. She hadn’t been in a place so full of art since she finished school, other than her “office” in the shack, and she was going to devour every sliver of it. “Uh, Mabel?” Mabel’s head snapped up to the counter just as a tall blonde looked up from the notepad an older man had written Mabel’s name on earlier when they came in. Mabel hopped up from her chair and waved her arm in the air with a high pitched ‘that’s me’. The other girl sighed and, with a roll of her eyes (blue, Mabel noted…a very beautiful crystal blue with white blond hair that framed her face perfectly…uh, in a completely professional, girl-to-girl compliment kind of way, of course…), she turned and waved the brunette towards her chair on the other side of the room. Dipper heard the faint voice of he girl ask “So, what did you have in mind?” but Mabel’s bubbly response never reached him.

Two olive green walls separated the two haves of the room, each lined with shelves that held different products the stylists would recommend and try to sell to their clients. Dipper had never known anyone to buy the commodities. Then again, Dipper had rarely stepped into a salon.

Dipper’s fingers tapped away on the screen of his phone, typing out a lengthy paragraph reply to a comment he found online (written by someone without ANY credibility. Seriously, who do people think they are nowadays?) about the lack of impact musical involvement has on the brain, as ‘evidence’ that playing an instrument can’t make you smarter. Ha! Dipper had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. This idiot, he had no evidence to back his claims, no citations for what he wrote, AND he had commented on a blog a psychologist was following. Dipper felt bad for the guy. He wasn’t going to get far in life like that. Or she. Or they. He didn’t know their identity, but he was fairly sure that someone who can’t bother to do a little research before bumbling around online with obviously fake information probably doesn’t have an open mind that would allow gender terms to reach the surface. The thought of him — they — disgusted Dipper. And he was halfway through a response that would tear him to shreds.

“Hey, Pinetree!” He heard the drawer on the cash register open as he lifted his head in search of the one being referred to as a common perennial plant. The man now at the front counter dropped some change into an older woman’s hand, who in turn gave two quarters to a small brunette child at her side. She eagerly rushed to the small toy machines setting over by the door, and the woman followed, leaving Dipper only the man to focus on.

He was unpleasantly surprised to find the man staring directly at him with a disturbingly terrifying frown on his face.

The man looked around Dipper and Mabel’s age - 22, maybe, 24 max - and had golden blond, decently shaggy hair that had been tousled and gelled to look chaotically perfect. His cheekbones were high and sharp, and even sitting down Dipper could tell he was a few inches taller than himself. He wore black slacks and dress shoes, and a nice, crisp white dress shirt that looked like it had been ironed five minutes ago. He was a being of pure beauty, and Dipper didn't know if it was rude to stare, or rude to look away.

“No hats in here, Pinetree!” He was still looking at Dipper, and when he just blinked back at him with a blank face, the blond rolled his eyes, pushing the register closed. He tapped the top of his head with one hand. “Your hat. Take it off, kid.” Dipper’s face lit up with recognition (and a bit of embarrassment at being called a child) and his left hand moved to pull it off his head. “Hat hair is the WORST style-don’t in the HISTORY of fashion! With that big head of yours, you’d think you’d know a thing or two!” Okay, this guy just outright insulted him. He was beginning to sound a lot like Mabel and he’d only said, what, four sentences to him?

Dipper pulled his cap off his head and held it in his lap, his fingers brushing over its rough, dirty material. It had been beaten, and torn, and had large white stitches on the pine tree from where Mabel had to sew it back on a couple years back. It was so fragile that he rarely wore it anymore, but it brought him comfort in social situations and it had been a while since he had come into town. Maybe that’s way Mabel had forced him to drive her, then proceeded to - quite literally - drag him out of the driver’s seat of the car and into the little shop.

The male had taken the few short steps across the tiled floor from the counter to where Dipper sat, now bent forward at an odd angle for someone so tall to examine Dipper’s hair. He harshly grabbed Dipper’s chin and forced his head up, resulting in a shocked gasp from the shorter man. He turned Dipper's head this way and that, eyes narrowed, and brought his other hand up to ruffle the small curls on top of Dipper’s head before he shook his head and clicked his tongue, dropping both of his hands and straightening his back. Dipper slumped back in his chair, eyes wide and face flushed at the invasion of personal space. “This won’t do.” He took two steps back. “This will not do at all.” He turned, hand raised and waving for the other to follow as he walked over to the second chair and mirror set in a row of five. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s not something I can’t fix.” He patted the back of the chair.

Dipper had unconsciously stood up, gripping his hat in both hands as he watched the other walk to what he assumed was his station. He shook his head, untamed locks covering his eyes and tickling his neck. “I’m not here for a hair cut, I’m just waiting on my sis-“

The man cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah, just get over here and sit down before I come at you with the scissors.” This man, with scissors, running at him, was NOT something Dipper wanted to see today.

With a hard swallow, he sat down.

Immediately a hand with a healthy golden glow that made Dipper’s skin look sickly started tugging and ruffling Dipper’s hair. He yelped when the man pulled a particularly tough tangle with his comb. The other just chuckled.

Dipper had come to the conclusion that this was not a person he trusted to hold scissors to his neck.

“So, I was thinking we could take a bit of the extra fluff off the top here,” he pinched a couple strands in his fingers before dropping them and moving to the hair around Dipper’s ears, “and maybe some of this…okay, a lot of this. And what’s with the bangs, kid, no one has bangs anymore!” He tugged on the hair falling over Dipper’s eyes. “We can fix that, though!”

With wide eyes, he swatted the hands away and jumped from the chair, the black apron still wrapped tightly around his neck as he turned to face the man. “N-no! No, that’s okay, it’s fine, really, I like my hair the way it is, it’s fine!” He was rambling, hands throwing random gestures around the room. He brought his hands up to smooth down the hair in his face, cheeks flushed red and eyes still dark with a small fear of being made fun of. He had never grown fond of the birthmark on his forehead. It was just too out there and crazy and he was tired of people asking him if it was a tattoo. Why would he get a tattoo on his forehead in the first place?

The blond stared at him with a blank expression for a long moment as Dipper continued his babbling. Then, he laughed. Scissors held up in one hand, the other holding his stomach, the man laughed as if Dipper had just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. Dipper’s heart stuttered in its beating, stomach flittering with unwelcome butterflies. His hands starting shaking. He quickly pulled them into his chest, cupping one with the other.

The laugh that echoed throughout the small room was full, genuine, and to the rest of the room’s inhabitants, seemingly contagious. It was a beautiful sound, like listening to a bell tolling from a church on Sunday morning. While speaking, the man’s voice was high and crackled, pitches fluctuating almost without his consent. It could quickly become annoying. But this laugh was something Dipper wanted to hear. He didn’t know it, but when the joyous sound stopped he would immediately want to hear it again.

The stylist finally came down from his high, hands resting on the back of the chair Dipper had been sitting in. He lightly shook his head. “Come on, Pinetree, I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want.” He threw his hands up and twisted his wrists towards the other, luring him back. “It was just a suggestion.”

Dipper scoffed, leaning forward a step. “Yeah, and a bad one at that.”

The other man put his hands over his chest, a feigned hurt expression covering his face. Scissors still held in his right hand, he was cautious to not cut himself. He was a professional, holding sharp objects was second nature now. “I’m hurt, Pinetree! I’ll have you know, most people think that I am highly trained in the world of style! Look at me!” His hands gestured over himself. Dipper tried hard to stop the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well I’ll have YOU know that I am not ‘most people’,” he drew quotes in the air around his head, “and I do NOT trust you with scissors anywhere close to my neck.”

An audible gasp filled the room. “I am a trained professional!”

“You have the maturity of a child!”

“Says the one who wears a hat with a pine tree on it!”

Dipper chuckled, and the blond’s eyes lit up. “I don’t trust any stranger with sharp things.” Dipper finally said, lips turned up in a content smile that wasn’t large enough to crinkle the skin around his eyes, but just big enough to give his hazel orbs a happy glow he’d only ever shown to Mabel.

“Ah! Where are my manners?” The man leaned over the back of the black cushioned chair and held out his left hand. “The name’s Bill! Bill Cipher.”

Dipper reached his own hand out to meet Bill’s outstretched one in a quick hand shake. His hand was smooth and soft, compared to Dipper’s coarse, unmoisturized ones. “Dipper Pines.”

Bill clapped his hands together, and Dipper flinched. He was being careless, holding those scissors and swinging his arms about. “Now I’m not a stranger, so sit down and let’s get to the fun part!” He raised the hand with the scissors out toward Dipper and cut the air, audibly adding a quiet ‘snip snip’ sound effect that had Dipper doubled over in laughter.

“You’re such a child.” Dipper shook his head, but sat down nonetheless.

Bill moved to smooth out the apron Dipper wore, leaning over his shoulder to ensure it covered him. “A very skilled child,” he added to Dipper’s statement. The edge of Dipper’s lips curled up in a smile that Bill happily returned.

They sat in silence as Bill clipped rogue strands of hair away one by one, his shaggy mop of hair being tamed and styled. He used a squirt bottle filled with water to make Dipper’s thick hair easier to comb and handle, and when he was satisfied with the back (he had left the length alone and had simply trimmed down the dead ends the kid had created from pulling a brush through it too many times. The poor care made Bill cringe, but he guessed there were a lot of males who didn’t take proper care of their bodies.), he twisted Dipper’s chair around to face him and, with a mischievous glint in his golden brown eyes, spritzed Dipper right in the face with the water bottle.

Dipper screwed his eyes shut and pulled his lips into a thing line as Bill pulled the trigger a total of three times, then set the bottle down on his counter with a laugh. He placed his hands on his hips, one holding a comb and the other the scissors, and watched Dipper wipe the water out of his eyes in slow movements. He could have just sprayed his bangs, but where’s the fun in that?

The boy huffed and licked the liquid off his lips, meeting Bill’s gleaming eyes with a scowl. “Haha! Aw, my little tree’s all wet! Did you get rained on out in the forest, Pinetree?” Dipper stuck his tongue out at him and grabbed the gray towel Bill held in his outstretched hand, wiping the remaining water from him before tossing it back at the other’s face, muffling his laughter. Bill wiped his hands on the soft fabric before setting it back down on his cabinet, returning the scissors to his hand and leaning over Dipper to focus on the hair hanging in his eyes.

Dipper sucked in a breath at their close proximity, but didn’t question his motives as he brought the scissors closer to his face. He watched Bill’s eyes flicker over his face as he continued his work, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. Dipper was sure he didn’t need to be invading his personal space like this, but he decided he didn’t mind it in the presence of such a beautiful person.

This close, Dipper could see small freckles dusting his lightly golden skin over his nose and cheeks, practically invisible at a distance. He fought off the incredibly strong urge to brush his fingers over the sun’s kisses. He could tell that this man would never be caught dead in a tanning bed, that his tanned skin was completely natural. Meanwhile, Dipper all but burned to death whenever he spent more than two hours out in the sun. His pale pigment was there to stay.

“There! All finished!” Bill stood and stretched out his back. The sudden movement made Dipper jump as Bill spun him around to face the mirror. Dipper had to touch his face to make sure the handsome man he was looking at was actually him.

Bill chuckled, admiring his masterpiece. Dipper had a wondrous look in his eyes, and it made Bill’s heart flutter to know it was him that had put it there. It was always nice to know someone else appreciated his art.

Dipper ran his hands through his hair, the familiar silkiness that accompanied a visit to the salon light on his fingers. He pushed his bangs out of his face with the movement, exposing his ghostly white forehead.

And his painstakingly familiar birthmark.

Dipper quickly dropped his hair back into place and brushed it down with his bitten-down fingernails and hoped to some higher being of power that Bill hadn’t seen the thing he’d been cursed with since birth.

His plea had gone unheard.

Bill’s eyes widened as he watched Dipper in the mirror, lips parting in surprise he hadn’t been prepared to hold back. His arms dropped from his hips to hang limply at his sides as he continued to stare at Dipper even after he had fixed his hair over the object of interest. Dipper’s face had gone red, watching Bill watch him in the mirror. They weren’t directly staring at each other, using the mirror as a third party, but that seemed to make Dipper more anxious. He had always had a fear of mirrors, afraid that they would manipulate the image given to them. For all he knew, Bill could be utterly disgusted, and the mirror just showed him what he wanted to see instead of the harsh reality.

What he wanted to see. Is that what Dipper wanted to see? Bill looking at him with admiration and astonishment, like he was the only other person in the universe and there was nothing else he could even think of wasting his time on other than him? He mentally shook his head to stop the thoughts. Bill was so far out of Dipper’s league he might as well have a cinder block tied to his leg and thrown to the bottom of the deepest point in the ocean. But he wanted to think about it. He wanted this one person to take an interest in him, wanted to be something to this person. He wanted it to be different, turned around. For once, just this one time, he wanted to be the one being admired, not the one admiring. He’d never spoken to someone so freely before. He wasn’t anxious, wasn’t afraid of saying something out of character or dumb, but his stupid birthmark was going to ruin everything like it always did.

Dipper took a deep breath and let his eyes fall shut. He could have left them closed, let his mind continue to hope and dream, but he didn’t. He needed to face what was coming.

With eyes open, he slowly turned to face the blond at his side. And he turned to face Dipper, with the same face he had seen in the mirror. The same eyes that marveled at him from the mirror were staring at him in person. Dipper was frozen, just as Bill regained his control after his initial shock. He very cautiously moved closer to the sitting male, reaching a hand to brush his hair back out of his face. His other hand ghosted over the mark atop his skin, seven connected dots burned into the boy’s forehead by the fire of the very stars depicted. “Dipper…” His voice was soft, quiet, something he didn’t even know he was capable of, and it was filled with warmth. A tenderness he had never used with any other creature on the planet. He wasn’t a particularly gentle person, but at that moment he was terrified that the beautiful creature sitting in front of him would just disappear.

Dipper let a small gasp escape his lips as Bill’s cold hands brushed over his heated skin. His eyes were focused on Bill’s waiting for the initial look of loathing before he threw Dipper out and never wanted to see him again. But it never came.

“This…this is amazing, Dipper.” The male flinched at his words, bringing Bill’s attention from the beautiful imprint on his forehead to his wide chestnut eyes. Now that he could actually see them, Bill discovered that his eyes had flecks of gold floating in them, contrasting the ring of green at the edge of the iris that created chaos in a peaceful giant. He was mesmerized.

A flash of realization hit him. “Is this what you were trying to hide earlier?” He hadn’t given it much thought when the brunette had freaked out at the idea of having his hair cut; everyone had their own secrets. But this was something he should be proud of, not something he feels the need to hide.

Dipper scoffed, pushing Bill’s hands away and using his own hand to hold his hair back. “No, of course not.” He leaned in close to the other and pointed to a spot on his forehead. He hoped there was a dot there. “See this one? This one’s not a birthmark, it’s actually just a pimple I’m embarrassed about.” Bill knew Dipper was throwing sarcasm in his face the moment he pointed at an empty spot on his skin, but he was joking with him and comfortable enough to show Bill his birthmark on his own, so he decided he’d play along. Games were always fun.

Before Bill could make a move, Dipper straightened his back and spun his chair around to Bill’s kneeling form, a sly smile curving his lips. Bill let out a quick ‘ha!’ before he stood and made a grabbing motion towards the other. “I can help you with that!” He reached for Dipper’s head, but the brunette ducked under his arms and jumped from the chair with a laugh. “Come on, Pinetree, let me help!”

Dipper dodged the other again, a loud, genuine laughing filling the room. “No, dude, that’s gross!” Dipper jumped out of the way of Bill’s next ‘attack’ and ran down the small half of the room away from him. There was no one else on this side, and he guessed it would be pretty similar on the other side of the room. He and Mabel had come pretty late in the afternoon on a Saturday, and most of the stylists, since they worked for themselves rather than one over-looking boss and just had to rent their space in the salon, had taken off around one thirty to eat a late lunch and get started with their weekend plans.

The room was only so big, and Dipper soon ran out of space to run to. He could have ran all the way around, but he wasn’t particularly keen on running by Mabel and whoever her stylist was with a man child chasing him and making grabby hands. Instead he chose to open the first door he saw and shut it behind him.

It smelled clean, and free of hair altering chemicals, unlike the rest of the shop. It had different tiled floors, and was relatively empty, save for a white standing sink and matching toilet. A bathroom. Dipper was hiding from a guy wanting to pop his pretend pimple in a bathroom. He laughed at their immaturity.

There was a loud bang on the door. Dipper could only guess that Bill’s momentum he had for chasing Dipper had forced him to run into the door. He chuckled. Dipper glanced around for a way out (he knew he was in the middle of a building so there wasn’t going to be a window to escape from but it was an instinct he couldn’t quite shake), and in exchange got the perfect idea for revenge. He grinned. “Pinetree! Come out here!” Bill had tried the door handle, but when nothing happened he assumed Dipper must have locked it. He faintly heard the sound of water from the sink. “We’re like an old married couple, Pinetree! I’ll help you pop your EMBARRASSING zit on your forehead and then you can scratch my back and then we can take both a nap, how’s that sound?” He hadn’t expected a response to that, so when Dipper casually opened the door and said “Okay,” he had no idea what to do. He just stood there awkwardly in front of the other with a blank expression.

He blinked.

Then he blinked again.

He may have just met the kid but he knew that this was out of his character. Then again, he had JUST MET the kid. He definitely hadn’t expected him to think of something like revenge. Dipper lifted his hands up by his head and flicked his fingers towards Bill, the cold water on his skin hitting the other’s face. Bill squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his mouth open, shoulders tensing at the unexpected action. He heard Dipper laugh and run back towards the front of the room as he wiped his eyes and threw the water to the floor. “DIPPER PINES YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW.”

The brunette let out a high pitched squeal that led into a laugh just as Bill grabbed him by the arm. He was laughing so hard he didn’t have the strength to struggle as Bill wrapped his arms around the smaller’s waist and lifted him off his feet. He’d almost made it out the door. He attempted to speak through his laughter, sucking in breathes between each word. “No! Bill put me down! Put me down!” Dipper weakly kicked his legs as Bill stepped from the door back over to his chair and forced him to sit.

“No can do, Pinetree!” He then proceeded to use Dipper as a cushion and sat on him.

“Hey, you two, keep it down I can barely hear myself think!” The white-blond girl Mabel had went back with earlier stuck her head around the corner, and upon seeing the two males, she shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I- you know, I don’t even want to know.” She sighed. “What are you even still doing here, Cipher? You could have left twenty minutes ago.” Bill opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he ever had the chance to start. “No, I don’t care, but if I finish before…whatever is going on here is over, you’re closing up, not me.” And with that, her pretty little head disappeared again.

They waited a moment to ensure she had left before they resumed their shenanigans.

Bill wriggled on top of Dipper to make himself more comfortable, reigniting the war amongst the two of them. It was obvious to both that Bill had won, but he just loved to milk his victory. Dipper pushed on his back, but the blond went limp and with his reduced strength from laughing he just couldn’t manage to push him to the floor. “Bill,” he whined.“Can’t…” he wheezed for a bit of dramatic flare, “breathe…I think,” a gasp, “I think I’m going…to die.”

He didn’t budge an inch. “Aw, that’s too bad, Pinetree.” He paused to cross his arms over his chest, thoughtfully staring at the tiled ceiling. “And to think, you were so cute. I may have even asked you out!” Dipper’s struggling ceased. That was unexpected.

“Wait, seriously?”

Bill let out a howl of laughter. “He lives! The boy is alive!” He threw his arms out to his sides, consequently almost slapping Dipper in the face. He snickered and turned his head (and most of his upper body, enough to make it look like he was actually sitting in Dipper’s lap rather than trying to suffocate him with his tall, lanky body), bringing one hand up to tap Dipper’s nose. adding a soft ‘boop’ noise for effect.

Dipper blinked. “Did…did you just…boop my nose?” Dipper gave the other an incredulous look, watching as he slinked to the ground off the chair before springing back up in an almost inhumanly graceful fluid motion. This man was strange.

The blond shook his head, hands resting on his hips as he gazed down at the other man. “Not important, Pinetree.” He held out his hand to Dipper and the other took it, allowing the taller to pull him up from the chair. The result was an extreme invasion of Dipper’s personal space.

Their noses were almost touching. Bill’s head was turned down at a small angle to hold Dipper’s gaze, his hand still holding Dipper’s cold one at his waist from the action of assisting him to stand. Dipper stood between Bill’s feet, the toes of their shoes touching, so close that the fabric of their shirts rustled together with the rise and fall of their chests. Dipper’s breath hitched in his throat, hazel eyes wide and staring into honey ones that watched him with a fondness no one had ever held for him.

The blond’s lips quirked up at the edges, his rosey lips parted just enough for his crystal white teeth to be seen. Dipper had never been so close to something so beautiful, and his mind had a hard time comprehending that the affectionate expression on the other’s face was directed at him. He had to fight off the urge to look over his shoulder for someone else, someone much more attractive and less socially awkward than himself, because he couldn’t believe that someone so gorgeous and perfect as the man before him could find HIM handsome or alluring in any way.

His heartbeat was beating so loudly and rapidly in his chest that he almost couldn’t hear Bill’s voice when he spoke softly to him, his hand subconsciously tightening around the brunette’s pale one. “Heya, Pinetree.” He brought his other hand up to ruffle Dipper’s freshly cut hair, eyes brightening at the smile that graced the other’s lips. Dipper mumbled a quiet ‘hi’ in response, drinking in every feature of the blond’s face greedily as if it would be the last time he ever saw him.

He liked to believe he would see Bill in the future, but the fact of it was he very well may never set eyes on the male again.

It wasn’t awkward, standing so close to each other. Dipper expected the lack of distance between him and a man that was practically a stranger would be uncomfortable, that he would be trying to wrench his arm from the others grip and be running for his car the moment the other’s guard was down. But he wanted to do the exact opposite of what he thought he should. He wanted to be closer to him, wanted to know if his lips were as soft as his hands. He wanted to run his fingers through blond locks, to know every curve and dent of his body. It was physically hurting him to be so close to the blond without being able to reach out his fingers and brush them against the golden freckles dusting his cheeks.

Bill pulled him closer by the hand he still held, bending his arm behind his back and taking Dipper’s with it. The brunette’s cheeks were flushed, his skin prickled with goosebumps as their torsos were pressed together. The shocked expression the man wore was fascinating, hazel eyes roaming over every detail he could see in their close proximity. He had never wanted to kiss someone more in his entire life. And he intended on making his thoughts known. “You really are cute. I've never-“

“DIPPER!” Both males jumped apart as the other brunette rounded the corner, followed by the only other stylist present in the room. Dipper glanced at the clock on the wall. They’d been there just a little over an hour. How time flies…

“Mabel!” Dipper replied, turning to face his twin, his back to Bill and face flushed. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bubble gum pink tips of Mabel’s hair. Had they been there long enough for that?

The lively girl jumped towards her brother, pulling her hair over her right shoulder to shove it in his face. “Look! Pacifica said my hair would look even better with a little flash and you know me, Dipper, I live for flashy-“

“I thought you lived for fashion-“

She continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “- and I’m so happy that I listened to her because LOOK AT ME, Dipper!” She stepped back and gave a quick twirl, eyes sparkling.

Dipper’s smile grew and he nodded at the hopping figure in front of him. “Yeah, Mabes, it looks great.” The white blond - Pacifica, he assumed - took her place behind the counter, her lips turned up in the slightest hint of a grin, and Mabel stood in front of her on the opposite side, pulling her wallet out of her purse to pay for her new style. Dipper’s eyes widened as he realized he had never paid Bill for his haircut. There had been a lot of distractions.

He turned back to the other male, seeing his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. “I totally forgot, I still need to pay you!”

The blond waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Pinetree! It was just a little trim, and technically it was after hours anyway.“

Dipper shook his head as he stared at him. The response definitely wasn’t something he had expected. “No, I can’t just not pay you. After hours or not, this is what you do for a living!”

Bill walked around the other, heading towards the door, standing against the wall near the counter where Pacifica and Mabel were conversing. “Well if you really insist, Pinetree.”

“How much?” Dipper dug in his back pocket for his wallet.

Bill hummed, tapping his chin in thought. He waited for Dipper to look back up at him before he answered. “How about you take me on a date, and we call it even, hmm?”

Dipper almost dropped his wallet. He blinked at the taller male. “Seriously?” He questioned him, watching the smile on the other’s face grow.

“Yes, seriously, Pinetree.” He brought his hands up to examine his nails before he continued; “I’ll be ready at six on Tuesday. Here, give me your number so I can text you my address. Dress casual, plan something ahead of time, and I’ll see you then.” Bill patted Dipper’s shoulder, the other heading towards the door to follow Mabel out to the car. He could see it in her eyes, they’d be having a long conversation about this later. “Oh, and Dipper?” He turned back, taking his coat and scarf from Bill’s hands (he had completely forgotten about them with everything that had happened) and pulling the garments on.

Bill reached out and straightened Dipper’s coat, giving him a smile that the brunette returned without hesitation. The taller leaned down and pecked the other’s cheek. “You look adorable with that new haircut.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first finished fan fiction, finally published! I'm thrilled with how it turned out, after a week of spending hours a day working on this. It wasn't meant to be more than 2,000 words but it just kind of kept going. Please leave comments, constructive criticism welcome and encouraged for guidance for future works. It is currently twelve forty a.m. and I have school in the morning (woo), so I hope you have or have had a wonderful day. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Also if anyone knows how to copy and paste with the original format I would appreciate it.


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